


The Second Time Around

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Confessions, Drinking & Talking, Emotional Dean Winchester, Episode: s15e12 Coda, Episode: s15e12 Galaxy Brain, Fluff, Grieving Dean Winchester, If The Conversation Had Been Uninterrupted, Inspired by Music, M/M, Slow Dancing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23441518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: "My mission wasn't just to pull you from Hell, Dean. I was sent to watch over you. We had to make sure the Righteous Man was out of harm's way.” Cas shrugs. “Save for that deal with Hell, anyway. I get what you mean now by not understanding today’s music. I’ll never understand Drake’s obsession with God’s plan. It was clearly flawed beyond every reasonable doubt—”"How?" Dean cuts in, so not grateful for Cas’s up-to-speed pop culture dictionary right now. “How did you watch over me?”"It’s who," Cas corrects with a soft smile.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 38





	The Second Time Around

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by/dedicated to the passing of Kenny Rogers, whose song is used throughout. R.I.P.

A strange, but far from unwelcome stillness falls over the Bunker. This time there's no wards being stripped, no cosmic entities to fry, and no bodies to resurrect. Instead, there's just the clank of two glasses between them and the soft, unhurried sip of whiskey. This time, it doesn't even burn going down. Or if it does, Dean doesn’t notice.

"What?"

Dean sways his head lazily to Cas. "Hmm?"

"You laughed," Cas says. He sets his drink on the makeshift wooden tray between them, as if this small reaction from Dean - rather than the half a dozen other Truman Shows Chuck is setting out to cancel - is an earth-shattering event.

For a second, Dean wonders if he laughed at the irony of the scene - the two of them having personal conversation without being normally as... well, so personal. Or perhaps it’s the casualness of everything before the world falls apart.

Or maybe he just needs a nap.

Dean shrugs. "I don't know. I guess it's just been awhile since I’ve laughed. Wanted to see if it's still worth the hype."

This next sip of Dean’s whiskey is done with a little more haste - something that doesn't go unnoticed by Cas, judging by the amused furrow of his brow, but that he pretends to leave alone. "I think it's nice. Spending this time with you."

"Really?"

"Of course. Considering I've spent but fleeting moments with you prior to the last eleven years, it’s nice to have the time and the reciprocation."

Dean sets his glass down with some hesitance. "What?"

"My mission wasn't just to pull you from Hell, Dean. I was sent to watch over you. We had to make sure the Righteous Man was out of harm's way.” Cas shrugs. “Save for that deal with Hell, anyway. I get what you mean now by not understanding today’s music. I’ll never understand Drake’s obsession with God’s plan. It was clearly flawed beyond _every_ reasonable doubt—”

"How?" Dean cuts in, so _not_ grateful for Cas’s up-to-speed pop culture dictionary right now. “How did you watch over me?”

"It’s _who_ ," Cas corrects with a soft smile. "There was a reason your mother didn't recognize me at first. I was in a different vessel when I first met her."

"Wait, you..." Dean sits up a little straighter in his chair. His heart's pounding a little heavier and the burn from the whiskey resurfaces. "My mom gave you her vessel so you could watch over me?"

"You were crying," Cas says, "I thought you were in danger. Turn out, infants just do that."

Dean hears his mother's voice in his head: _It's okay, baby. Angels are watching over you._

Except it's not from a memory, because it's not a memory. It's her actual voice. Cas smiles over at Dean and that's when Dean realizes it's _Cas's_ memory.

The delayed sting of the whiskey reaches Dean's eyes, turning his eyelashes into reverse umbrellas. With the ever-constant end-of-the-world crisis, he hasn’t had time to process losing his mother. For some reason, it stings a lot worse as a full-grown adult. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't have to," Cas says. "I didn't do anything. It was your mom that was the higher power, after all. She took care of you; fed you, bathed you, clothed you. I was merely a bystander."

Dean shakes his head softly, tears zig-zagging in their path to the underside of his jaw. "You've never been a bystander, Cas."

Cas chuckles. "I suppose you're right there."

"Why didn't she ever say anything? Why—?"

"She knew you were overwhelmed already," Cas interjects. "Between her resurrection and leaving the Bunker, she didn't want to burden you with something else.”

He wants to tell Cas he’s not a burden—that he’s never been a burden. But his thoughts are cut off by clicks and pops from an old vinyl hitting the needle of the record player in the corner of the study.

"Cas, what—?"

All at once, it hits him. This time, his mind hears a memory. It's him, five years old in the backseat of the Impala, feeding a baby Sam, as this song filters through the radio. The original doesn't do justice to _Dean's_ original, which is his father's soft, sad hum on backing vocals, but no one can live up to John Winchester's reputation.

_"You, you're on my mind night and day_

_And it hurts me when we're apart_

_When you're not here by my side_

_There is nothing in this world for me..."_

Cas lends out his hand from across the room. Dean chuckles softly. He moves towards him, accepts his hand, and closes the bridge of space between them, mumbling, “You son of a bitch.”

As they sway hand-in-hand, chest-to-chest, in the middle of the dimly-lit library, Cas brings their linked hands to wipe more tears from Dean’s cheeks.

"Got them this time," Cas announces with a confident smile.

Breath hitching from the light touch he finds himself leaning into, Dean returns the smile – something more out of practice than his dancing – as the song plays on from what feels like a mile away. Everything else – even Sam’s footsteps descending the stairs – feels so distant outside of Cas’s embrace, and Dean wouldn’t trade it for any other alternate universe.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Cas."

_"Well now, I can see every dream_

_When I look in your eyes_

_And though, things never are what they seem_

_There is one thing that I realize_

_That there's no doubt in my mind_

_We can make this love go on forever…”_


End file.
